The Dysfunctionals
by Benevolent-Dictator-Kitty
Summary: There's coarse language and adult references from the outset, but this is not Slash, nor will you ever find any such stuff herein. They're mean, they're angry, they're a bunch of bleeps and there's gonna be hell to pay when someone steals the pub from th
1. Where's the pub?

*clearly I don't own Phantasy Star, that would be very silly of you all now wouldn't it? Nor do I infact own the game. I go lurk at a friend's place to play such jolliness. There's not a lot here that I'm owning. Oh well*  
  
The Dysfunctionals by 'Kills and Boom'  
  
Once upon a time, there was a ship called Pioneer 2. It came after Pioneer 1, and probably before Pioneer 3, which was scrapped due to budget problems and the whole 'end of the world' issue that meant everyone had to leave Homeworld in a hurry. Bummer.  
  
On this ship, there were seven 'heroes'. Well, actually there were LOADS of people, and the 'heroes' are not so much heroes as people with rather a lot of guns and stabby weapons. They also butcher local wildlife for fun and profit. They're great once you get to know them.  
  
Our heroes - see previous comment regarding semantics - are led by the fearless, noble Hiotomi. She wears glasses because they're cool. She can also take the other six without breaking a sweat, which begs the question why she even hangs around with them. The losers.  
  
Second in command, mostly by default and because he is a vicious bastard sniper, is Asmodeus. He thinks he looks the business with his ninja mask and his 'scruffy' hair. Yeah, if that style isn't carefully molded every morning using COPIOUS amounts of gel, then my name is Ted Sandyman. The hobbit.  
  
Third up is the vending machine with legs. He has a name. We think. We're moderately to fairly sure that he is actually a robot, designation 'Tabathon'. Yeah, it's a bit of an odd name. And by 'odd' we mean STOOPID! He hangs around with them because he has a device on his ankle which means he has a maximum radius concerning Asmodeus's current location. All will become clear.  
  
The rest, in no particular order, mostly because I am a lazy bastard, but also because remembering the exact levels of the characters requires brainpower and given a choice between anally exact detail and alcohol, the alcohol won. Mmmm, pub.  
  
Their names were Samael - who in the opinion of MANY on Pioneer 2, probably Pioneer 1 too, but since they were dead, it was contestable - who fought with glow sticks and Asmodeus once commented that he was pretty when he fought. Sam declined to comment on this. Then there was Travesty, one of the most aptly named of all of them. We believe his parents were precogs. He was the most openly gay of the lot of them, but had such a palid complexion coupled with BRIGHT red hair, that most gave him a wide berth, resulting in a kind of desperation that made Travesty scream random things like 'LET'S HAVE BUMSEX!' and everyone else just plain screaming. Mostly in terror, but Tragedy, the little deathmaid goth robot chick was screaming in excitement for no discernable reason other than she'd seen someone's shadow and he looked bishie. Her catchphrase - in fact, her only phrase (a flaw in her language chip perhaps) - is 'Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!'. She dies a lot. This MAY be to do with monsters. Sometimes it's even in battle, but that's another story I can't be bothered to tell.  
  
Last and least is Guideon Ankh. Asmodeus relegated him to the lowest level of their squad, even though Tragedy was a lower level, because he thought his accent was 'stupid'. And I quote. No-one contested Asmodeus's controversial move, mostly because of some photos and a spork held at sensitive locations of the human anatomy. Tabathon didn't get a say, he was a vending machine. The sticker on his head said so.  
  
And now that you have the dubious pleasure of knowing the names of these 'heroes', we may begin.  
  
We may not, but it sounds like something we should do.  
  
Cue the title song.  
  
iRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! RAH RAH RAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! RAH-RAH!! RA-RA-RA-RA-RA-  
RAAAAH! RAH.  
  
RAH?  
  
RAH RAH!!  
  
fish/i  
  
-It is the end of another long and unproductive day of killing and looting boxes, our weary seven have returned to Pioneer 2 in quest of shops in which to sell their illegally gotten gains and to pore over stuff they may or may not want to buy. This done, they are now resting in their shared barracks - which they accepted with relatively few complaints considering the majority of them where male and Sam and Asmo agreed that seeing Hio walking around in little clothing was generally a good thing -  
  
TRAGEDY: Eeeeeee!!11!!one, omg! Look what I found!!1! *waves around a picture of Vincent Valentine, skipping with deathmaid glee* IT'S TEH GOTH BOI KING!!1 OMFG!!1!!  
  
SAM: What the fuck did she just say?  
  
HIO: It still creeps me how she talks in internet speak.  
  
Asmo: *playing handheld device that was blatantly a gameboy, copyright be damned* Huh?  
  
Hio: I said . oh never mind.  
  
Travesty: Good idea, sweetie, Asmo can't hear anything when he plays with his little boy.  
  
Sam: . not even touching that with a Dim Partisan.  
  
Travesty: You strike me as the kind of guy to have a stupid weapon.  
  
Tragedy: EEEEEEE!!!1 OMGOMGOMGOMG!!11  
  
Guideon: *watching her scampering* I cahnott condohne thees behavyour.  
  
Tabathon: As a Mighty Robot, I want to know what the hell you flesh-bags have done with my buffer! I have SMEARS!  
  
Travesty: . Wait, that was a BUFFER?!  
  
Sam: Well, I think I'll go somewhere and gauge out my eyes with a spoon.  
  
Asmodeus: YES, LEVEL UP!! YOU SUCK MY COCK, GYM LEADER BIZATCH!!  
  
Hio: Does anyone know what he's playing?  
  
Sam: The fool?  
  
All but Asmo: ZING!  
  
Asmo: *looks up suspiciously, his eyes narrowing (whether he has any more feature expression going on is academic, no-one can ever see it)* What are you all staring at? Nothing to see here!  
  
Hio: Well, I'm about done here I think. *straightens her clothes after Tragedy's obsessive compulsive hugging of her waist*  
  
Travesty: Where are you going?  
  
Sam: does it matter, she wouldn't be with you anyway. It's bad enough we have to work together and sleep together. No socialising together.  
  
Travesty: . we're sleeping together?! I DIDN'T GET THAT MEMO!!  
  
Asmo: I ate it. *saves his game and secrets his gameboy in one of the many pockets hidden about his 'look I'm a badass' coat*  
  
Hio: About that Asmo, I don't think you should go around eating all the memos. It's starting to become a problem.  
  
Asmo: . but if I don't dispose of them in a crazy way, the other units will find them and know our missions! And that will lead to all sorts of crazy shootings and assassination attempts and --  
  
Hio: I rest my case.  
  
Sam: Oh fuck you guys, I'm off to find a drink.  
  
Travesty: NO, FUCK ME, FUCK MEEEEE!! *lunges after Sam*  
  
Sam: *escapes out the door*  
  
Travesty: *does a shakespearean pose* Oh the woe, none of you appreciate my angst.  
  
Tragedy: EEEEEEE!! MY LITTLE PONY MAG!! OMFG!!11 i DON'T HAVE TEH SPARKLIE ONEZ!!11  
  
Travesty: Oooh, My Little Pony, do let me see! *swipes the magazine off her and sits on his bunk, reading avidly*  
  
Tabathon: As a Mighty Robot, I detest Hasbro and all their wares. But I am not going to burn the magazine because that will waste valuable drinking time! Farewell! *runs noisily out of the door*  
  
Hio: . Regardless, to further the cause of me getting the hell out of here, I'm going to where all good Rangers hope one day to go. The pub.  
  
Asmo: I'm a bad Ranger, can I come too?  
  
Travesty: He said 'come' *snicker*  
  
Hio: Put down the chocolate bar and get with the programme. And Asmo, sure. The more drinks I don't have to buy me, the better things are generally.  
  
Asmo: A Hio with free drinks is a happy Hio.  
  
Hio: Damn straight she is.  
  
Travesty: Who's straight?? Oh gawd!  
  
Asmo: Well, straight lady, let us go to the pub. Got your Meseta?  
  
Hio: Yeah. Got to wipe the blood of them, but it's all good. Now let's go. I want to be several drinks past sober before Brooding O' clock.  
  
Asmo: That sounds like a plan I can execute with ease.  
  
Travesty: He said . oh wait, that's not sexy. Hmm . he said 'ease' *snicker*  
  
Asmo and Hio: *exit hurriedly, putting as much distance between they and the barracks - thusly Travesty - as they can*  
  
Asmo: I found a monogrinder today.  
  
Hio: Who did you steal it off this time?  
  
Asmo: No-one we know or have to sleep with.  
  
Hio: Fair enough. What did you use it on? The Varista?  
  
Asmo: Well, I didn't have enough room to carry it, but Travesty said he had somewhere he could put it. I was occupied with shooting a monkey in the face, but in hindsight I think I made a mistake. It certainly wasn't in his backpack.  
  
Hio: We can only hope he added it to a weapon.  
  
Asmo: He owes me a digrinder now.  
  
Hio: But--  
  
Asmo: It's a digrinder or his face.  
  
Hio: *Makes mental note to tell Travesty Asmo said he could keep it, no charge* Fair point.  
  
Asmo: We try pub drink now.  
  
Hio: If that guttural and barely intelligent, must less coherent string of words was you saying 'Oh look, pub', I don't see it.  
  
Asmo: We do this every night! Do they move it or something? *looks around*  
  
Hio: *looks around*  
  
Asmo and Hio: *look at each other*  
  
Asmo: They moved it. 


	2. oh there it is

-*- I'm sure it need not be said that neither of the writers nor any of the contributors to this ludicrous work of Faction (that's right, SOME of these events actually happened . in our miiiiiinds!) own PSO in any way but the retailic way. Not a word, but in use as of now -*-  
  
Last time we saw our protagonists of dubious morality, they had managed to heroically leave their barracks and go in search of the pub. However, it had been imoved/i by person or persons unknown.  
  
Having nothing better to do with our time, we bring you another chapter of THE DYSFUNCTIONALS!  
  
Hio: So where do you think it'll be?  
  
Asmo: I'm not sure, but I know I have to make a stop at the Principal's Office.  
  
Hio: Oh? I don't think the pub will be there, Asmo. It's a little big to fit in there.  
  
Travesty's voice over the collar speaker: CONTEXT AWAY!  
  
Asmo: I hate him. *turns his collar speaker off and hides it in one of his many pockets, pulling something out, realising it's a haddock and dropping it on the floor*  
  
Hio: I'm not sure I want to know, but why do you have a fish in your pocket?  
  
Asmo: It would be stupid to keep it in my pack.  
  
Hio: . . . riiiiight. so anyway, pub, wherefore? Find.  
  
Asmo: Since when did I do what you tell me?  
  
Hio: Since I can fold you seventy eight amusing ways and feed you to a Bag Rappie.  
  
Asmo: A fair point and well made. I'll find that pub now.  
  
Hio: Good boy.  
  
Asmo: *hitting a button on his wrist unit* Map. Give me the map, damn you!  
  
Hio: Asmo, ship. No map.  
  
Asmo: . I knew that. *finds the teleport to the Principal's Office and nips in*  
  
Hio: *waits for about five minutes*  
  
Asmo: *comes back*  
  
Hio: So what did you need to go there for?  
  
Asmo: . hmm? Oh, I just felt compelled to go up there and run around for a bit.  
  
Hio: You know he hates it when you do that.  
  
Asmo: Yes. That's why I do it.  
  
Hio: Good boy. *continues on her way, looking at the neon prettiness around*  
  
Asmo: *is unaffected by the neon prettiness and glowers at people who come to close for his liking. Granted they couldn't actually get any further away, the concourse was wide, but not infinite*  
  
Hio: THERE IT IS! *realises she just squealed and coughs* I mean, oh look, the pub. Yay.  
  
Asmo: Ahhh, sweet vender of intoxicating beverages, you have waited here, longing for my sweet caress.  
  
Hio: Asmo, I know you like to praise the pub before going in, but I'm sort of needing a drink so can you keep it short today?  
  
Asmo: Oh very well. *turns back to the pub* Where was I? Oh yes. Open your arms and allow me into your beloved embrace, O Goddess of Many Pints.  
  
Hio: . done?  
  
Asmo: Yeah. It's safe to go in now.  
  
Hio: Right. *goes in and heads straight for the bar* Lackey, two beers, he's paying. *points to Asmo*  
  
Asmo: Make mine a triple, Priest of Beer.  
  
Barkeep: Oh, it's you two again. How did you find us?  
  
Hio: We home by pubs.  
  
Barkeep: . terrific. I'll serve you but if there's any ruckus like last time-  
  
Asmo: Please don't make threats you can't back up, Esteemed One, it makes me sad.  
  
Barkeep: That would be inconvenient, yes. *Pours Beers in that Beer-pouring way he does, being the barkeep and all* That'll be 100 Meseta:  
  
Asmo: *glowers* If you weren't supplying me with booze, I'd claim extortion on you. *Fishes in pocket for money*  
  
Barkeep: Would you like any barsnacks with that?  
  
Asmo: How can I possibly think with this Bag Rappy skull in my hand?  
  
Hio: Why are you even carrying that?  
  
Asmo: A very good question.*looks shifty*  
  
Hio: Is any answer forthcoming?  
  
Asmo: . . yes. But first I must . pay the good man. Yes. *pays the barkeep, though at this point, it's important to note that he may not actually be a good man at all, but since he gives them beer, such a point is academic at best*  
  
Hio: *gets her two beers and goes to find a table she likes the look of*  
  
Asmo: *tips the barkeep with one of Travesty's old shoes and takes his beers, trailing after Hio*  
  
Hio: I like this table. What are you doing at my table?!  
  
FOnewm: But, this is our table.  
  
Asmo: Correction, it was your table. It's ours now.  
  
HUcast: I don't see your name on it. *glowers in a faintly mechanical way*  
  
Asmo: Oh no? *flips the table, scattering drinks and nibbles over the floor and the little elf girl hunter specifically* Read the bottom.  
  
HUcast: *glares, then notes the rather ominous 'This is property of ASMODEUS, touch it and die a horrible death involving a bag rappie and a tube of lubricant" carved on the underside of the table* .  
  
FOnewm: I can see that maybe it would be best all round if we went and found another pub. On the other side of the ship.  
  
Hio: Good. *pushes him off his chair and sits down*  
  
Asmo: *rights the table again and puts his beers on it* Bye now.  
  
HUcast: *twitch*  
  
FOnewm: C'mon Charlie, we don't want any trouble. We should go meet the Dawg anyway.  
  
HUcast (now known as Charlie): . Yeah. We should get the squad together. *gets up and is possibly being menacing, but Hio and Asmo are now engaged in an arm wrestle, so they really don't care*  
  
Asmo: OWOWOWOW, MY ELBOW!!  
  
Charlie: *makes a metallic sort of growl and stalks out after his Force friend*  
  
Asmo: PAIIIIN!!  
  
Hio: *sipping her beer with her other hand and looking at the décor* Is it just me, or have they redecorated?  
  
Asmo: MY SHOULDER! DISLOCATION LOOMETH!!  
  
Hio: You know the rules. Say 'Peanuts'.  
  
Asmo: NEVER! ASMODEUS GIVES UP NOT!  
  
*Snap*  
  
Asmo: . Asmo thinks he may need medical assistance. He respectfully requests that Hiotomi lets go of his hand.  
  
Hio: *drinks* Say it.  
  
Asmo: Unfair!!  
  
Hio: *starts to twist his wrist*  
  
Asmo: TAKE 'HAZELNUT' AND LIVE WITH IT!!  
  
Hio: Your spirit is commendable, but I will break you yet!  
  
Asmo: YOU JUST DID!!!  
  
Hio: You know what I mean.  
  
Asmo: Happy place, I'm in my happy place.  
  
Hio: Yes. We ARE in the pub, good boy.  
  
Asmo: Not saying it.  
  
*meanwhile*  
  
Sam: *drinking quietly* Well, it's not that they disrespect me. I mean, it's just that they're all Rangers, you know? I feel a bit left out of the sniping they do.  
  
HUnewearl: *nods understandingly* Yeah, and they keep killing everything before you can run up and get your sword into some enemy. *pats his shoulder*  
  
Sam: Yeah. It's annoying. Trav's the other reason I'm not happy with my position.  
  
HUnewearl: Why don't you ask for a transfer?  
  
Sam: Because I'm afraid Hio will hunt me down, gut me and give my entrails to Asmo to play with.  
  
HUnewearl: . that sounds . excessive.  
  
Sam: No really, he's as happy as a kitten with a ball of string when he's up to his waist in entrails. Not so chuffed when they get up to his neck. Apparently they mess with his gameboy.  
  
HUnewearl: So why's he a Ranger if he likes the entrails?  
  
Sam: . I think it has something to do with how short he is.  
  
HUnewearl: Oh. One of THOSE. I can understand why you might not get along. Short people resent tall, handsome men. True story.  
  
Sam: . uh . yes. I guess.  
  
HUnewearl: I know, why don't you intern with my squad for a bit? See how you feel about an all Hunter group? You might like it!  
  
Sam: Last time I heard that was from the mouth of Travesty and it didn't bode well.  
  
HUnewearl: You really are a bundle of angst. I can see those Rangers have belittled you often. I'll go to the Principal RIGHT NOW! Don't worry, long-haired fellow Hunter, you will soon be with your own kind again! *runs off*  
  
Sam: . . . why do I always get the crazy people? Is it some kind of aura I have???  
  
Barkeep: *cleaning a glass* Don't as me, Obe Wan, you're the one who thinks glo-sticks make a cool weapon.  
  
Sam: Yes, and you know I'm one of Hiotomi's squad don't you?  
  
Barkeep: Yeah, but if you were the same as the rest of them, you'd have jumped the bar and ripped my intestines out already.  
  
Sam: That is true. I guess you found me out then.  
  
Barkeep: Shock and horror.  
  
HUnewearl: *comes running back in a horribly short time which makes certain writers wonder if this was all in fact pre-planned* We've okayed it with the Principal and the Hunter's Guild. You're one of us now, Samael! Oh wow, I can't believe I'm going to be working with a male who DOESN'T either clank or have to stand on a box to see over enemies.  
  
Sam: *sweatdrop* . (oh boy . how am I going to explain this to Hio?) 


	3. there's something in the water

~~ Since I do not own Phantasy Star On or Offline, and have no particular desire to do so either (an outright lie, I might add), because it seems like a lot of paperwork to grant myself unnecessarily, you may take it as read that this is some form of disclaimer. Though I fear I must accept only partial responsibility for the dialogue, it's not like I copied and posted a Chat me and my fellow lunatics had once!! I said I didn't do that! Stop looking at me! There's a clown behind you!  
  
I DISCLAIM IT ALL, BWA HA HA! That is all, go back about your lives, citizens~~  
  
When last we saw our misfits and thugs, they were drinking. They still are drinking, but now have relocated to their barracks after a rather nasty fight outside a pub with a HUcast called Charlie and a HUmar apparently called 'The Dawg'. Through skill, cunning and Tabathon robot-piling the hapless Hunters, the day was won and the army were called. Luckily our 'heroes' escaped, naturally with all the items Charlie and the Dawg had on them at the time. Now, warm in the glow of comeradery and various forms of alcohol, the seven dysfunctionals have a deep and insightful conversation and no-one seems to notice that Tragedy is MORE coherent the more she drinks. Or no-one cares. Either way.  
  
Travesty: I'm an urban girl.  
  
Asmodeus: I'm a country girl.  
  
Travesty: Which is irony above irony.  
  
Tabathon: I'm a city girl.  
  
Gideon: I'm a barbie girl  
  
Travesty: Given that I was raised in the rural country crap.  
  
Sam: also, in the Dome your neck hurts  
  
Tabathon: In Soviet Russia, necks hurt YOU!  
  
Travesty: *laughs rather loudly at this* Tabathon, hush dear.  
  
Asmodeus: *snickering*  
  
Travesty: *winks lustily*  
  
Asmodeus: *has found more booze that he had hidden under his bed some time ago*  
  
Tragedy: Oh Tabathon, I have no food.  
  
Travesty: That was a sexual "oh Tabathon"  
  
Asmodeus: Noooo, he's my Mighty Robot!!  
  
Travesty: "oooh Tabathon!" *does something vaguely suggestive to his own shirt that possibly would work better if either Tragedy or Tabathon had mammary glands*  
  
Tragedy: and I mean NO food  
  
Travesty: "I have no food! Let me munch on your manmeat instead."  
  
Asmodeus: Feed me!  
  
Tragedy: I NEED FOOD  
  
Gideon: You're a robot, you need no food!  
  
Travesty: "MANMEAT!"  
  
Tragedy: I think I have tea though.  
  
Tabathon: Can't you get Asmo to sell you a tin of beans? What's wrong with you?!  
  
Travesty: "I think I have your saliva though"  
  
Gideon: ?  
  
Tragedy: I can buy food tomorrow after we come back from SQUEEE KILL MAIM BURN! *bounces around for a while and then calms down* I can wait until then.  
  
Asmodeus: You jest, Vending Machine, but you know I'd throw it across the street for her.  
  
Travesty: "Can I taste your saliva tomorrow"  
  
Gideon: ??  
  
Tragedy: I'd like to see you try, Asmo, seriously I would. It'd be funneh to see how many pedestrians you'd bounce it off before it got to me. ^________^  
  
Travesty: "I'd like to see your cock. Seriously I would."  
  
Gideon: ???  
  
Asmodeus: Nah, seriously, Traj, if you come over here I can give you a can of beans and half a loaf of bread.  
  
Tragedy: I have not one to show you *turning to Travesty with a puzzled expression*  
  
Asmodeus: well that one was self explanatory. *takes off his boot and fishes inside for his cigarettes*  
  
Travesty: "I have no cock to show you. Therefore I want to judge yours"  
  
Gideon: ??????? ah fuck this  
  
Tragedy: I now fear Travesteeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!one  
  
Asmodeus: you only just started?  
  
Travesty: "I fear your manmeat"  
  
Tragedy: I fear most people.  
  
Travesty: I'm not at ALL sexually starved.  
  
Tabathon: Trav's that translation machine from Mars Attacks.  
  
Tragedy: Which explains my code name in the Hunter's Guild  
  
Sam: What? Nervous Sack Of Nerves?  
  
Tragedy: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! Sammy remembered it!!!!!  
  
Travesty: *laughing at Tabathon*  
  
Asmodeus: *also laughing at Tabathon, though this is usual for him*  
  
Travesty: "We come in peace" . . . hehehe 'come' . . . "BANG, BANG!"  
  
Asmodeus: *laughing loudly*  
  
Travesty: hehehehe, they said 'bang bang'!  
  
Sam: Tickled you, did it?  
  
Travesty: Not as much as you can!!  
  
Hio: *sprays air-freshener around, as the smell of two robots, three healthy males and Travesty has made the room a little pungent*  
  
Asmo: *has an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a baseball cap on backwards* Hey Trav, how about we set you up on a date at some point?  
  
Travesty: Oh gawd!! Last time you guys did that I ended with a Bag Rappy Dominatrix. And she was female!  
  
Gideon: *looking at the hunter manual* It says here that they're called Rag Rappies.  
  
Tabathon: Shut up, sword-wielding fleshbag! As a Mighty Robot, I think 'Rag Rappy' sounds like something stupid, whereas 'Bag Rappy' is ZANY!  
  
Tragedy: Eeeee!! Asmo is so cool!! *glomps Asmodeus and clings to him*  
  
Asmo: *is too drunk to pretend he doesn't like Tragedy* Aww, you're so sweet. Here you go, that tin of beans I promised you. And here, have this. I hacked open a monster to get this just for you. *pulls a huge rifle out from under his bed and hands it to Tragedy with the tin of beans*  
  
Tragedy: *_* eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Asmo is so good to meeeeee!! *snuggles the rifle* Look Tabathon, look what my happy Asmo gave me!!!  
  
*it must be noted at this point that Tragedy is possibly the only person to have ever described Asmo as 'happy'*  
  
Tabathon: Tell me not what that scumbag does to win your devotion, you fool! He stole that off me while I was making room for it in my pack!! As a Mighty Robot, I RESENT his favouritism!  
  
Asmo: *doting on Tragedy and ignoring Tabathon*  
  
Sam: . . . (I need to tell Hio about my transfer, but it's so noisy in here with all the guys drunk. Man, I wish I had a little more time. And a world of monsters between her and me. Maybe I shouldn't tell her tonight. She'll just make a scene and then Asmo'll take her side and Tragedy will do whatever Asmo's doing and it'll be a mess all round. It's probably best I say nothing. Yeah)  
  
Hio: Stop spoiling her, Asmo!  
  
Asmo: But she's so CUTE!  
  
Sam: (They'll never let me go though . . . I know, I can live a SECRET DOUBLE LIFE! No-one need ever know!)  
  
Travesty: Oh Sammy, what was that little smile for?  
  
Sam: Hmm? Oh, I just thought of something.  
  
Travesty: Oh. Was it DIRTY?? *eyes light up*  
  
Sam: No, not really.  
  
Travesty: How dull. Hey Tabby, want me to oil your joints?  
  
Tabathon: YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER ASK THAT IN PUBLIC, HOW CAN I EVER TRUST YOU AGAIN!? *runs out*  
  
Travesty: Tabathon!! *runs out after him*  
  
Gideon: They're awfully close aren't they?  
  
Asmo: 'Awfully' is the best way of describing it.  
  
Gideon: They're such good friends.  
  
Hio: Yes ... friends ...  
  
Gideon: *notices that his mag is trying to hump the toaster* OH GOD, WOULD YOU STOP THAT?? THE POWER SOCKET IS THERE, THERE I TELL YOU!! *tries to urge the mag back over to where the others are charging quietly but it clings to him desperately*  
  
Asmo: ... I'm not sure whether to congratulate you on having a loving mag, or beat you over the head for having the STUPIDEST mag of all time.  
  
Gideon: *clings to his mag protectively* It's special!  
  
Hio: Special Ed maybe.  
  
Asmo: In my day it was just called 'RETARDED'.  
  
Sam: And when was your day, Asmo?  
  
Asmo: Never you mind!  
  
Hio: *aside to Sam* he's sensitive about his age. Note that for future ammunition.  
  
Sam: Yes ma'am.  
  
Asmo: I can hear you you know, you're only two feet away from me!  
  
Hio: In Soviet Union, me two feet from YOU!  
  
Asmo: All right, that's it! Tickle attack! *leaps up and tackles Hio around the middle, making them both crash to the floor where they wrestle, neither appearing to be a clear winner in the tickling and shrieks of laughter that follow*  
  
Sam: *shudder* This wasn't what I needed.  
  
Gideon: Um, Samael, could you help get Tragedy off my leg.  
  
Sam: *looks over and grimaces at the sight of Gideon's arm being humped by his mag and his leg being humped by Tragedy* ... I need some air. And a sander for my eyes. *gets up to escape*  
  
Gideon: NOOO! SAVE ME FIRST! SOMEONE!! ... ... ... anyone? Crap. 


	4. smells like plot spirit

~~ Having been accused of spilling my bottle of AbbyChat over my PSO disk, I would like to apologise to the guilty parties for their dialogue in chapter three. BUT IT BLOODY HAPPENED! HAHAHAH! It's Life Writing for lazy people. Yes, ha, bleah. Oh yes, disclaimer. Still not in possession of the Consortium of Phantasy Star Online. Breathe a sigh of relief all you.~~  
  
When you last happened on this work of minor doom, though is now a work of major doom, Sam the Hunter had decided to lead a SECRET DOUBLE LIFE, clearly the victim of too many movies. It seems to have escaped his notice that the protagonists in these movies always get found in the major climatic moment of the second act. Now watch in awe, or the visual medium of your choice, as Sam struggles through a predictable chain of events that will lead to him being found out and/or maimed.  
  
Sam: *Skulking in the corner of the Hunter's Guild* So far so non life- threatening. Good job the others didn't have any quests to work on today...  
  
Minna: Good morning, Samael! Hey, not only are you on time, you're slightly early! I like that! Hey, you look kind of nervous.  
  
Sam: ...You don't know the half of it...  
  
Minna: Ah, don't worry about meeting the others, they're a good bunch! Oh, hi guys! Sam, this is Jorgy and Kefka, the other two Newmen in our party. Or should I say Newomen? Guys, this is Samael, the new guy I was telling you about.  
  
Sam: Uh, hi.  
  
Jorgy: *Whistles*  
  
Sam: ...Okay. And you were Kefka, right?  
  
Kefka: Yep. Hi there. *Flutters eyelashes*  
  
It was around this point that two thoughts occurred to Sam. The first was that perhaps the Newomen didn't want him around to be handy with a pair of daggers, per say, and the second was recalling exactly why he didn't tend to hang out with the petite Newomen anyway. Most Newmen were scrawny looking guys with stupid shoes, so he was obviously considered an improvement. Aren't you glad that you, the reader, can see into Sam's thoughts?  
  
Shut up. Now, on with the 'plot', insofar as we have one. Happily, we rejoin the action just as the door to the Hunter's Guild opens again.  
  
Minna: Oh, and this is our compliment of Androids! The HUcaseal is Wrath, and the HUcasts are Charlie and Whiskers. They've all got interesting backstories, but we'll go into them later when we have the time. And that's all the gang!  
  
Small voice: *Coughs genteelly*  
  
Small Elbow: *Digs Minna in the hip*  
  
These two are probably related in some way, but frankly, I could currently care less.  
  
Minna: Oh, yeah. And this is Alan, another fairly recent recruit, also known as 'Shorty McPhee', but not to his face, because we're all taller than him.  
  
Alan: *Mutters* One of these days you're going to look around, then BAM! No kneecaps.  
  
Minna: What?  
  
Alan: I didn't say anything. It was probably Whiskers. You know how zany he is.  
  
Sam: Hi Alan. Wow, you look young. What's your secret?  
  
Alan: I'm seven years old.  
  
Sam: ...Yeah, that'll probably do it. I've never worked with a seven year old hunter before. Hey, you guys don't do that thing where I run towards a target only to have it killed before I get there, do you?  
  
Charlie: The Charlie thinks that sounds like a dirty rotten Ranger thing to do! THE CHARLIE HOLDS NOT WITH RANGERS!  
  
Sam: *Aside to Minna* Does he always talk like that?  
  
Minna: Only when he's very angry about something. For example, last night he got mugged by a group of Rangers. When he came to, all his stuff was gone, and someone had written 'Asmodeus is your God' on his arm. Crazy, no?  
  
Sam: *trying not to look duplicitous* Yeah, imagine that. So, not that I want to get out of this enclosed room with one exit that could be blocked by Rangers any minute, but what's the quest for today? Because I'm eager to prove my use or something.  
  
Wrath: We've been hired by a private collector to gather pelts from some of the animals in the forests of Ragol.  
  
Whiskers: Why wasn't I surprised when I realised you carbon lumps had brought Furry culture with you from your homeworlds?  
  
Jorgy: Because you weren't programmed to feel surprise.  
  
Whiskers: Oh yeah. THANKS FOR REMINDING ME!  
  
Kefka: Calm down, Whiskers, you know Jorgy didn't mean to upset you by reminding you that you're a soulless robot built by humans to stop people getting killed when an Android could do it for them.  
  
Whiskers: Aww...I love you guys. Group crush!  
  
Aww, look, isn't that touching? But now that we've emphasised the point that this is a close-knit, trusting group of reasonably well-adjusted people, we can break up this goddamn cybernetic love-fest.  
  
Sam: Uh...girls? Could you do something wild and bizarre and maybe let go of me? The group hug finished two minutes ago.  
  
Jorgy: Not for us it didn't!  
  
Sam: Why don't you hug Alan? He's a Human too!  
  
Distant voice: I'm already in the transporter! You don't catch Alan Artois with the same trick twice!  
  
Sam: *thinks. You know, in the PRIVACY OF HIS OWN HEAD.* Artois? Who names their kid after a beer? No wonder he's a little smartass. I bet he has issues, but I'm too concerned with these Elf Girl +2's I have equipped to wonder about them.  
  
Once again, the reader should consider themselves blessed to have this unique insight into the very brain of a Hunter. Because if they don't, Asmodeus is going to send Travesty round their houses. And nobody wants that, ever.  
  
Minna: Break it up, you two! There'll be time enough later to seduce the newbie into some long protracted team building exercises when we get back from our skinnin'. I hope everybody brought a sharp object with them! You know, to kill stuff with.  
  
Sam: ...  
  
Minna: It's what we do. Hey, nice ellipsis.  
  
Sam: ...  
  
Minna: Hey, you did it again! Wow, that's neat. Anyway, off we go.  
  
*Meanwhile, and whenever the Dysfunctionals are concerned the while is always mean, our rampaging Rangers are waking up to another alliterated morning.*  
  
Travesty: OH, GAWD!  
  
* Nobody listens. Or, rather more accurately, nobody cares.*  
  
Travesty: I repeat 'OH, GAWD!' And if you don't pay attention to me, I'm going to perform my annual Christmas naked greasy pole dance several months in advance!  
  
*That got them, alright. Right in the 'Terrible unreasoning fear' section of their brains.*  
  
Asmo: *Wakes up with a start, as opposed to a stop, and pulls the file off of his face, marked 'Top Secret; Do not Remove from the Principal Office under any circumstances'. The file, not his face, that is. Well, honestly.* What is it, Travesty?  
  
Travesty: I went into Sam's room for my daily ritual of stroking his hair, and HE WAS GONE!  
  
Asmo: *Surreptitiously hides his little Bag Rappy Plushie* Yeah, well, I think he has a valid reason.  
  
Tabathon: On another entirely unrelated topic, my Mightier-Robot-Than-Thou thermal scans reveal that Unit Sam's bed has not been slept in for many of the measurements of time that you pitiful flesh bags call 'Hours'.  
  
Asmo: Not only is that topic totally related to what we were discussing, it is also highly relevant! How dare you hide information from me! I am so stealing everything you own, ever have owned, or ever hope to own in the future now! *starts rummaging through Tabathon's locker*  
  
Tabathon: Not that this represents a change in your usual routine, but in my defence that is as Mighty as it is Robotic, I only just found out 6.23 seconds ago.  
  
Asmo: That's no excuse for sloppy work. Hey, one of your backup personality discs! I bet I can get one, maybe even two meseta for this.  
  
*Before this route of conversation ditches our debateable heroes even further into idiocy, a door opens, revealing the sleep-tousled countenance of Hio from the room she shares with Tragedy, who has no hair to rumple and technically walks around naked, which is a story for another day, possibly during the 'Travesty's tales for small children' hour. She gave freely a glare that could rather neatly have done the work of a Barta spell, and given that she'll presumably be speaking lines, back to script format we go.*  
  
Hio: *Through clenched teeth* What. The. Hell. Is. All. This. Noise?  
  
Gideion: Sam's gone for reasons unknown and currently even unspeculated.  
  
Asmo: It's obvious he's doing something I don't approve of because he's doing it and not me, so I say we go hunt him down, string him from the rafters and use his bloodied corpse as a piñata!  
  
Hio: We're in a space station. We don't have rafters.  
  
Asmo: In that case, I'll need a saw, some nails, and several large planks of wood.  
  
Hio: Fair enough. We should probably go to Ragol to get the wood, although I thought glass was more your thing.  
  
Asmo: Yeah, but have you ever tried hanging somebody from a glass rafter?  
  
Hio: ...  
  
Asmo: 'Cos I have, and it's not pretty.  
  
Hio: Let's just go to Ragol anyway. I'm hung-over, tired and surly. Therefore, I need to go change, kill something in a very vicious manner, and then make omelettes from Rappy eggs.  
  
Travesty: You know, I hear that once you've beaten that first murder in the morning, it's so much easier.  
  
Hio: It could very easily be you, Travesty.  
  
Travesty: ...TO RAGOL!  
  
*All cack-handed irreverence with our 'heroes' aside, we now rejoin the party of Hunters known as 'Minna's Merry Mostly Not Men' down on the surface of the planet of shits and giggles, Ragol.*  
  
Sam: I have to tell you Alan, it's quite a change to work with another hunter who favours Daggers. This guy I used to work with always had a sword of +3 probable compensation, and it just wasn't...elegant enough for me.  
  
Alan: Oh, I agree completely. Besides, you may have noticed that I'm not the tallest of people -  
  
Sam: Well, they do call you 'Shorty McPhee'.  
  
Alan: -Yes, thank you for pointing that out. Anyway, with my stature it just wasn't really much of a viable option to carry around a sword bigger than I am.  
  
Sam: Might impress the girls?  
  
Alan: *sceptical look* I think I'm little young for that, don't you think?  
  
Sam: Well, you seem so mature for your age. Not in that area though I take it?  
  
Alan: *shakes his head slowly* No. Behind you.  
  
Sam: *spins on his heel and plants his dagger blade in the face of the Booma sneaking up on him. Watches as it slumps to the ground*  
  
Alan: You're quick. *gets on with skinning the Booma*  
  
Sam: Well, I guess so. I have to take what I can get really. Have to be quick when you run with Rangers.  
  
Alan: I would have thought that would be run 'from' Rangers, given their reputations in general.  
  
Sam: You don't know the half of it.  
  
Alan: Probably not, no. *unclips the communicator from his belt and toggles to Minna's frequency* Commander?  
  
Minna: Yes?  
  
Alan: I think we're about done here, our packs are full.  
  
Minna: Head to Central Dome, Whiskers says he's hit the motherlode!  
  
Alan: *frowns lightly* Commander, with all due respect, we really can't carry much more-  
  
Minna: Don't worry, we've got plenty of room. That's your orders, kiddo.  
  
Alan: *turns the communicator off with an annoyed expression* Does anyone else have a feeling of impending doom concerning this 'motherlode'?  
  
Sam: Should I do? *has become immune to feelings of impending doom, as living with the likes of the Dysfunctionals has overworked the feeling to such an extent that his impending doom node has a thick callus*  
  
Alan: Maybe it's just me. Sister Grace told me that a sense of impending doom, while not completely mystical, is certainly something to be heeded.  
  
Sam: *heading towards Central Dome with Alan* Hmm? Sister Grace?  
  
Alan: One of the three nuns who raised me.  
  
Sam: ... ... You were raised by nuns? (Well, doesn't that just explain it all?) Were they the most sarcastic nuns ever?  
  
Alan: No, they were actually quite sweet and kind.  
  
Sam: Must be hereditary then.  
  
Alan: Go figure. This conversation is now over, by the way.  
  
Sam: ... ... ... you're very ... self-reliant.  
  
Alan: It's quite common for people in my position. The official terminology is 'abandonment issues' and it apparently renders the psyche quite delicate.  
  
Sam: ... *smiles*  
  
Alan: Why are you laughing?  
  
Sam: Oh, I'm not laughing. I'm just amused that anyone would describe your psyche as delicate. You seem very ... uh ... 'robust'.  
  
Alan: *looks down at himself* ... I'm going to take that as a comment regarding my emotional self.  
  
Sam: Yeah. Something like that. ... ... ... Shorty McPhee. *mutters the last bit*  
  
Alan: *looks droll* I heard that.  
  
Sam: Good, I'd hate to think you hadn't.  
  
*So while the newbie hunters pre-ambled to Central Dome in quest of this 'motherlode', the Dysfunctionals were breaking their fast in the tranquil Forest, made more tranquil with the aid of a certain frying pan, a master halbert and various photonic projectiles.*  
  
Hio: *picks a bit of shell out of her omelette* Who made this one?  
  
Tabathon: As a Mighty Robot, I am exempt from cooking!  
  
Tragedy: Omg!1!! Didja like it Hiotomi???!  
  
Hio: ... ... ... I've tasted better vomit.  
  
Asmo: Sounds like a typical night out then.  
  
Hio: *hits him with her frying pan, knocking him back into the stream several feet back*  
  
Asmo: I was being nostalgic!!  
  
Hio: A likely story, ninja boy!  
  
Asmo: Man, what a bi-- ... pesky woman.  
  
Travesty: *combing his hair* So who wants to apply sunscreen to my back?  
  
*there are a few awkward coughs and everyone manages to find something else to occupy their attention completely.*  
  
Travesty: *protracted sigh* Well you can all stop complaining about my pasty complexion then!  
  
Gideon: I miss having someone around I can mock.  
  
Asmo: You, Hunter lam0r, couldn't mock your way out of a kindergarten of emotionally unstable children!  
  
Hio: So a normal kindergarten then?  
  
Asmo: Yes! I need some planks! *stalks off*  
  
Hio: Planks are fun for all.  
  
Travesty: You know, I think he's upset about Sam being missing and all. He's quite attached to him. In a master/dog sort of way.  
  
Tabathon: Loathe as I am to agree with you fleshbags, I agree. We need a Hunter around!  
  
Gideon: Um ...  
  
Tragedy: Eeeeeeee, I miss Sammy. No fun without Hunter.  
  
Gideon: Er ...  
  
Hio: Yes, it is rather dull without someone to run around looking mocked. Alas for no hunters in the party.  
  
Gideon: Guys ... I'm still here ...  
  
Hio: So you are. Why is that by the way?  
  
Gideon: *wince*  
  
Travesty: Is Asmo really going to use Sam's corpse as a piñata?  
  
Hio: How should I know?  
  
Tabathon: As a Mighty Robot, I recall that you have known him the longest, and pitiable as that seems on the outside, it should give you a unique insight into his psyche!  
  
Hio: ... ... ... why would I want to do that?  
  
*The others had to allow that this was a very good question, given Asmo's general disposition. After a few more moments of silence and eating, Asmo returned looking irritated.*  
  
Asmo: Can't find any fucking wood!  
  
Travesty: But we're in the middle of a forest!?  
  
Asmo: All the fallen branches are rotten.  
  
Gideon: So just chop a tree down.  
  
Asmo: *cold stare*  
  
Hio: *clears her throat* Asmo, there may be some treated wood closer to the residential areas around Central Dome.  
  
Asmo: *still glaring assorted weaponry at Gideon* ... yeah.  
  
Hio: Let's go see, shall we?  
  
Asmo: 'k. *follows her as she leads the way off*  
  
Gideon: Ok, what did I say?  
  
Travesty: *shrugs* It's probably to do with Asmo being Asmo. Who knows, maybe he was abandoned as a baby and raised by trees?  
  
Tabathon: That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard from your fleshy mouth!  
  
Travesty: Wow, really?? Go me!  
  
Tabathon: Yes, GO! Leave my Mighty Robot life!  
  
Travesty: But-  
  
Tabathon: *grabs his rifle and whacks Travesty with the butt of it* Go away!  
  
Travesty: Ow! Hey! Stop that! Eee! That bit's sensitive!!  
  
Tabathon: *chases him around, swinging the rifle around*  
  
Tragedy: n_n eeeeee, happy games of tag0r!!one!!  
  
*So while Tabathon was attempting to commit Travicide, Hio, Asmo and assorted others were heading for the Central Dome, hardly pausing to massacre things along the way. The local wildlife were keeping their heads down now, what with a bunch of efficient hunters and a batch of psychos out today. Some days a Booma just didn't want to clamber out of it's burrow. The hunters, however, have now reached Central Dome*  
  
Alan: *jumps over the body of a hildebear* Are we skinning bears or something?  
  
Minna: Ahh, there you are.  
  
Sam: *follows Alan more sedately, noting that Alan made up for his lack of stature with above-average agility*  
  
Jorgy: *giggles and gives Sam an inviting look*  
  
Sam: *pretends he didn't see it*  
  
Minna: We've found a transporter.  
  
Alan: *arches an eyebrow* You know the Dome is practically a dragon nest, right?  
  
Minna: Oh don't worry, kiddo, we'll protect you. No big bad draggie's gonna hurt you. *pats Alan's head and starts towards where Charlie, Whiskers and Wrath are waiting* Let's go guys!  
  
Alan: What are we even going to skin??  
  
Wrath: *beckons Sam and Alan over so they could pretend to be conspirators for a few moments* Whiskers saw a pair of white savage wolves. We're gonna bag them.  
  
Alan: *thins his lips*  
  
Sam: *waits until the other hunters have congregated around Minna, now waiting only for Kefka to turn up* Something wrong?  
  
Alan: Just an attack of ethics. Nothing you probably want to be concerning yourself about. *looks away*  
  
Sam: Ethics?  
  
*it should be said at this point, that Sam is familiar with the concept of ethics, being as he and Gideon were perhaps the only practicers of such things in the Dysfunctionals. Sam, however, is not as staid about them as ol' Gidders. Sam knows when to bend the rules and when to break them outright*  
  
Alan: White savage wolves, never before seen on Ragol. Are they a new species? Are they utterly unique? Let's skin them for a self-important merchant back on Pioneer 2. A guy who's too much of a coward to come down here and collect his own skins for whatever fetish he has going.  
  
Sam: *raises an eyebrow at Alan's scathing sarcasm*  
  
Alan: Our packs are already full, but no matter, we can surely cram a little extra in right? Who knows maybe we'll get an extra bit of meseta for murdering something unique and beautifully alive?  
  
Sam: *hates to admit it but feels like Alan may have the right of it* Look kid, you're a Hunter, right? You took the job and you showed no qualms over skinning what we already caught.  
  
Alan: And now my pack is full and my obligation to my client has been met.  
  
Sam: *looks up when Kefka arrives*  
  
Kefka: I've had a really CRAP day! It's like all the animals were off doing something else more interesting. Not one kill!  
  
Minna: Awww, well, Shorty McPhee and Samael have full packs. I haven't had such a swell day either. But don't worry, we've got something nice lined up. Everyone here? Let's go skin those abnormal and probably unique wolves, okei? Okei!  
  
*so despite Shorty McPhee's personal qualms with the situation, the Hunters descended to the inside of the dome where they found a distinct lack of white wolf*  
  
Minna: Whiskers, are you _sure_ this is where you saw them?  
  
Whisker: Of course I'm sure. I'm an android, I don't make those kinds of mistakes.  
  
Minna: fair enough. Fan out, there's probably a den around here somewhere.  
  
*everyone fans out except Alan who stands stubbornly near the entrance with his daggers at his sides*  
  
Sam: *looks back and shrugs* (yeap, issues. Ah hell, my pack's full, I can at least go talk to him or something) *he starts back*  
  
*handily for Sam, he turned around at just the right moment for two seconds later, a massive clawed foot burst through the wall and slammed down where he had been standing two seconds prior to it's dramatic entrance*  
  
Minna: DRAGON!  
  
*thanks to Minna's unnecessary identification of the huge scaled, winged lizard, all the other Hunters, who had not missed the rather loud entrance, swore in unison. The rumours were true! Fancy that. There really WERE dragons around Central Dome*  
  
Sam: *throws himself under the dragon's neck when it belches fire at him, scrambling up as soon as he gets over the heavy bang of his body on rock and doing as his instincts scream, races to it's ankle and slashes at it with his daggers*  
  
Minna: ATTACK! *races for the dragon to aid Sam*  
  
Kefka and Jorgy: *run in too, their packs bouncing on their backs* YAAAAGH!  
  
Whiskers and Wrath: *run towards the dragon too, though without any stupid warcries that could only serve to irritate a clearly already narked off dragon*  
  
Alan: DON'T RUN UNDER IT YOU IDIOTS! *reaches up, slashing the straps of his pack with a dagger and racing in* IT'LL FALL ON YOU!  
  
Minna: No, no, it's cool! We're, like, pro hunters, we'd never make a stupid mistake like that! Hey, everyone, we should shout our slogan! That'll intimidate the rather large fire breathing winged biped that probably wouldn't understand us even if this was initially our planet!  
  
Sam: *Edges away, bitter and vicious-minded Rangers looking like a preferable option around this point* So, uh, Alan... That there, uh, economy, huh?  
  
Alan: You know, you seem to display an amazing degree of intelligence, common sense and basic survival instinct for one of Minna's recruits. Why aren't you attacking the rare species with the rest of them?  
  
Sam: My pack's full.  
  
Alan: *Raises eyebrow*  
  
Sam: ... That and the fact that Minna is even more embarrassing than having kills cut down in front of my eyes by extreme prejudice, malicious laughter, and rifle fire.  
  
Minna: *From somewhere around the Dragon's instep* Hey, we're getting through! And by that I mean we're severely injuring it's leg muscles and hamstrings! Hey, don't things like that normally help things like this to stand upri-  
  
*Thunk*  
  
Alan: O_O  
  
Sam: ... ... ... Well, you did warn them ... *looks uncomfortable as red liquid the exact same shade and consistency of blood seeps out from under the dragon*  
  
Alan: ... ... YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH YOU'RE GOING DOWN YOU FUCKING BASTARD CHICKEN!! *reckless run towards Dragon's head*  
  
Sam: ...You're talking to the Dragon, right? Not to me? 'Cos if you are going after me, well, you really did warn them and oh, no, you are going for the Dragon, my mistake.  
  
Alan: *launches himself at the dragon's head*  
  
Dragon: *pauses and watches Alan with vague irritation, then blows a single jet of fire*  
  
Alan: *Lands next to Sam. More specifically, rockets straight past Sam, smacks straight into the wall of the cave, bounces, and then lands next to Sam, somewhat scorched and, y'know, generally bruised and the like*  
  
Sam: Hi.  
  
Alan: Hi.  
  
Sam: Well, that was impressive. And you're still conscious and alive, which is even more impressive. So what do you suggest we do now?  
  
Alan: Well, that was my plan, where's yours? *Mutters* Oh yeah, I could have equipped resist Fire but nooooo, I had to go and equip the priest brain, didn't I?  
  
Sam: You know, I think that technically it's Priest/Mind.  
  
Alan: Wait, wait, what? You mean that there's an item called Priest/mind? And I...Well, it's a good thing I wasn't planning on going back to the Nunnery to collect stuff, then...  
  
Sam: You know, you remind me of someone I know, what with the casual violence and all, but I can't think who, oh sweet holy Carp, it's getting up again.  
  
Alan: Might I suggest that instead of this oh so civil conversation and mutual enlightenment you, you know, do something about the fucking dragon??!  
  
Sam: Uh ... um ... .... ok. *walks forward so he's between Alan and the Dragon, possibly a place nobody really wants to be* Shoo.  
  
Alan: ... ... oh my god. I meant SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE, YOU HUNTER MORON!  
  
Sam: Wait a minute ... 'hunter moron'? That sounds exactly like someone I kno-  
  
Dragon: *smacks Sam around the head with the end of it's tail, being in a bit of a shitty mood and being distracted by the half-formed body of Charlie, who was hopping away industriously on one leg, the other sticking out of a pile of mush that might have been Kefka at one point in it's development*  
  
Sam: Hey, that wasn't very nice! Where's your code of honour, or ethics, or something?  
  
Alan: Sam, it's a dragon. A Dragon. It occurs to me that the concept of mano a mano combat doesn't particularly apply here.  
  
Sam: Well shit, I'm out of ideas then.  
  
Dragon: *has picked up Charlie and worried the android so viciously, he falls to pieces*  
  
Sam: *swallows slightly as the dragon turns around slowly, what with having injured legs and all. Raises his daggers, sets his stance and makes his peace with God*  
  
Dragon: *stomps forward menacingly and then roars when a hail of photon bullets hit it's side, some forcing their way right through the hapless lizard and making small craters in the opposite wall*  
  
Sam: *blinks as the dragon rolls it's eyes up and collapses on the floor, bleeding everywhere and dying a long, lingering death* ... (oh no)  
  
Gideon: *stops running towards the now dead dragon and lets his sword drop with a sigh* No fair ...  
  
Asmo: *replaces his Varista in its holster, ambling over to the dragon and gutting it with a halberd* Hmm, what's this beastie been eatin'? *he clambers inside to check who might have been eaten and if their equipment is still in usable condition*  
  
Hio: *has noticed Sam and starts to walk over slowly, her eyes unreadable behind the glasses* No time for that, Asmo, look who I found.  
  
Sam: *starts making his peace with God again*  
  
Asmo: *clambers back out and looks irritated as Tabathon lunges to take his place* Oh so here he is. And we never did find those planks. Let's use dragon bones.  
  
Hio: *advancing on Sam*  
  
Sam: *walks backwards and stumbles over Alan's body, who has finally lapsed into unconsciousness* I-I can explain.  
  
Hio: I do hope s- ... what?  
  
Asmo: *holding Hio's arm and looking at the unconscious boy on the ground* ... ... looks like that kid's in need of medical assistance.  
  
Hio: *also looks down at the boy* ... ... ... yes. He is.  
  
Asmo: ... ... we should probably get him back to Pioneer 2.  
  
Hio: ... ... ... yes. We should.  
  
Asmo: *looks at Hio*  
  
Hio: *looks at Asmo*  
  
Asmo: *goes and picks Alan up, trying not to knock the burns*  
  
Hio: FALL IN! We're heading back to Pioneer 2!  
  
Travesty: *who is fighting with Gideon over some crates* What? Already? But what about the planks?  
  
Tragedy: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!1!!! *runs past with some meseta, being pursued by Tabathon*  
  
Tabathon: THAT'S MINE! GIVE IT BACK, INFIDEL!  
  
Sam: *counts his limbs but yes, they're all still there* (help a random Hunter and not even go through his pockets ...??! What the fuck??)  
  
Gideon: Do we have to go back ...? What about-  
  
Hio: *gives Gideon a look that is not so much 'frosty' as 'Rabarta Lv 100'* We go back now.  
  
*and thusly the Dysfunctionals plus one unconscious young Hunter still in full possession of all his goods, returned to Pioneer 2, leaving only several carcasses and unwanted items littered about behind them. Another day in the office, as it were. And it were* 


End file.
